


Causality Dilemma

by GrimTheReaper



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Instability, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10015865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimTheReaper/pseuds/GrimTheReaper
Summary: What came first? The Riddler or The E. Nygma?(This is fragments of a story; untold.What do you see in the mirror?)---Eddie Eddie, quite unsteady.How does this city grow?With broken birds and strangled girls,And Riddlers all in a row.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Non-linear Narrative. Standard Gotham warnings. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.

It starts like this;

 

Raindrops, a confession, a bang and  _ splash _ .

 

Or;

 

A bottle of wine, or rather, a lack, a riddle told, a doppelganger, hands around a neck, the screech of metal on metal, and,  _ crash _ . 

 

Or;

 

A bullet in a cupcake, for she was as sweet as she is  ~~_ dead(ly) _ ~~ .

 

Or;

 

Stab stab  _ stab _ , for that man is bad for her. 

 

Or;

 

_ What's nowhere, but everywhere _ ?

 

Or; 

 

_ -worthless to one, but priceless to two.  _

 

Or;

 

**_Dude, it's a mirror… that's how they work._ **

 

Or--

 

-x-x-x-

 

Once upon a time, there lived a smart little boy. 

 

But to the adults surrounding the smart little boy, the smart little boy was too smart. So they started to hurt the little boy. 

 

So, of course, the smart little boy became smarter. 

 

(Too smart for his own good, the adults whisper. It’ll backfire on him one day.

 

Bang. Bang.  _ Bang. _ )

 

-x-x-x-

 

Everything in his world is tainted now. 

 

Everywhere he goes, there is the stench of seawater, the metallic smell of blood. 

 

(He hears confessions in his sleep, it makes him feel like a priest, and isn’t that funny?

 

He _ he _ **he** , of all people, does not deserve salvation.)

 

-x-x-x-

 

Pride comes before a fall. 

 

But after? After one falls and descends and plummets and dives--

 

What comes after the fall? 

 

**Why, the crash** **_and_ ** **burn after all.**

 

(There is fire and flames and absolution. 

 

And the Riddler watches as Gotham burns in chaos. 

 

~~_ I love you.  _ ~~

 

~~**I wonder why. I'm clearly the better choice.** ~~ ) 

 

The people say that falling is bad, you get hurt and you bleed and your bones break. 

 

But, truly, with the city burning brightly like so, how bad can it be?

 

-x-x-x-

 

< ( ^ )

 

<3

 

?

 

-x-x-x-

 

On the first day  ~~ in power ~~ , my  ~~ true love ~~ gave to me;

A Penguin in the Deep Sea. 

 

On the second day  ~~ in power ~~ , my  ~~ true love ~~ gave to me;

Two Dead Ladies

And a Penguin in the Deep Sea

 

On the third day  ~~ in power ~~ , my  ~~ true love ~~ gave to me;

Three plotting villains

Two Dead Ladies

And a Penguin in the Deep Sea

 

(Shut up. 

 

**Riddle me this, who’s the man the mirror?**

 

Go. Away.)

 

-x-x-x-

 

_ His _ eyes are a beguiling green, green,  _ green _ , and oh _ so _ bright and stunning and lively and  _ they _ sparkle oh _ so _ beautifully and- 

 

**They’re dull now, all glassly and gone.**

 

Shut. Up.

 

_ He _ likes fancy suits and fancy ties, soft fabrics with high thread counts.  _ His _ eyes sparkle in delight when  _ he  _ lays  _ his _ eyes on a particularly intricate tie or a nicely fitted suit. 

 

**Brocade is pretty, isn’t it? Pity that shade doesn’t go that well with red.**

 

Shut. Up. 

 

_ His _ . Eyes are. Green. Green.  _ Green _ .  _ His _ suits are fancy and ties are intricate and they bring out  _ his  _ green green  _ green _ eyes. 

 

**Not any more.**

 

Shut. Up. 

 

-x-x-x-

 

Eddie Eddie, quite unsteady.

How does this city grow?

With broken birds and strangled girls,

And Riddlers all in a row.

 

-x-x-x-

 

There is (was) Kristin. 

 

There is (was) Isabella. 

 

There is (was)  _ him _ . 

 

( **Riddle me this, I’m the part of the bird that’s not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean and yet remain dry. What am I?**

 

...

 

**_His_ ** **shadow, Eddie.** **_His_ ** **shadow.** )

 

-x-x-x-

 

The mansion is empty.

 

There is nothing left but memories broken and stained, physical remnants of betrayal scattered around the rooms, lost and waiting for their  _ owner _ to return. 

 

There is nothing left. 

 

_ He _ is gone. 

 

And ghost don’t exist. 

 

**I talk to myself, see my dead ex-girlfriend in the mirror, and just shot a penguin. What am I?**

 

Shut. Up.

 

_ He _ is dead and gone and lost.  _ His _ green eyes and fancy suits are stained by the dampness of the river, dull and colourless. 

 

There is nothing left. 

 

Not for  _ him _ , not for anybody else. 

 

**Riddle me this. What’s black, white, red, and has trouble swimming?**

 

Shut. Up.

 

**A penguin that got shot!**

 

Shut. 

 

Up.

 

There is  _ purple  _ everywhere in the streets. From the flowers that bloom in the cracks of the road, to the neon signs that hang atop of shops, flashing and blinking in the rain. From the neglected suits of a long forgotten tailor to the beautiful dresses upon a mannequin. From the poster in the alley, faded and water damaged by the pouring rain to-

 

**What do you get when you mix blue blue waters and red red blood?**

 

Shut. Up. 

 

Once, there was a  _ purple umbrella _ . 

 

Once. 

 

**Purple~!**

 

Shut. Up.

 

The words don't stop echoing.  _ He _ said that  _ he  _ loved. 

 

But love is sacrifice. 

 

Love is pure and just and love is normal. 

 

Love is-

 

a  _ weakness _ .

 

**A man walks into a harbor with a bird, both of them leave, but not together. Why?**

 

Shut. Up. 

 

**Because one of them leaves and the other left behind.**

 

Shut. 

 

Up. 

 

-x-x-x-

 

Ghosts don't exist. 

 

**Just ghosts of your own making.**

 

They don't. 

 

**Really?**

 

**Oh, Eddie Eddie, what colour are my eyes?**

 

The same as mine.

 

_ Well, they look green to me. _

 

Oswald?

 

-x-x-x-

  
**_Fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Of course the fragmented method of writing symbolises Eddie’s current fragmented mindset, what do you mean I can’t write un-fragmented stories? *NervousLaughter*


End file.
